


who died and made you king of anything?

by Nikkina



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:11:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkina/pseuds/Nikkina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds Bucky. Bucky still needs to find himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who died and made you king of anything?

**Author's Note:**

> I was stuck on a train and this fic just sort of... happened.
> 
> It's not necessarily my headcanon for their inevitable meeting. I just think that Bucky is every bit as stubborn as Steve is, and sometimes the people who love us are terrible at knowing what we need.
> 
> Title from "King of Anything" by Sara Bareilles, which popped up on my playlist and inspired this whole ramble.

Steve takes another sip of his coffee and eye him across the table. It's the polite-but-wary expression reserved for misguided authorities and, apparently, friends-turned-ex-assassins.

He had insisted on sitting with his back to the wall and Steve had let him, so now he can stare blankly past Steve's left ear and count the cars turning onto 13th. Something about "watching a six" flickers in his mind and he shoves it down with a quiet grunt. Steve takes this as his cue to speak.

"Uh, Buck," he says, and it comes out sounding strained.  _Same old Steve_ , says the voice in his head -- New York, he calls it, because it has a Brooklyn accent. Another thing he knows but can't explain.

Steve starts again. "Bucky."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I know you don't know who I am, but I think I -- we -- can help. You're my best friend, Bucky. You don't have to do this alone. Til the end of the line, remember?"

Something in him does like the sound of that. So many years spent alone, trusting no one, living in the shadows... whatever part of him that's still human wants to leave all that behind. But the new and intoxicating urge to live without orders -- no matter how nicely worded -- is stronger.

Somewhere in the background, Steve is still talking: "... and you'd love it there, Buck, there's hot water and plenty of beds and as much food as you can eat, whenever you want. And Sam -- you know Sam, er, well. You met Sam, before."

Indeed, the man with the wings is waiting just outside the window, taking frequent gulps of an enormous coffee and trying not to look too obvious. This 'Sam' has been helping the Avengers more often than not, nowadays. He had helped Steve corner him outside the Smithsonian. (It had been foolhardy to visit more than once.)

He -- the man who was once James Buchanan Barnes -- wanted to tell Sam to go home, not to follow Captain America the way he once had. He --  whoever he was now -- held no resentment toward the good captain, in the end. But even a fool could see that following Captain America hadn't ended well for "Bucky" Barnes.

"Bucky," Steve is saying. Damn. He still forgets, sometimes: forgets to shift his gaze, to analyze the situation through any lens but a sniper's scope. Steve probably thinks he means to attack Sam. For all the effort he put into retrieving him from the museum, Steve still doesn't seem to trust him an inch.

"Sam," he forces out. His voice is gruff and quiet, hard to use. They wanted him to use it as little as possible, before. He would speak more often now, if only out of spite, but after so many years it's hard to find the words.

"Sam," Steve confirms, and the corners of his eyes go softer, almost fond. Thank god the captain is damn near indestructible, he thinks, because Steve Rogers is an absolute idiot.  _Never backs down from a fight_ , New York pipes up uselessly. "Sam knows some people, people who can help you."

"Don't need help." These words come easily, such a quick and easy drawl that he immediately snaps his mouth shut in surprise.

Steve looks uncomfortable, now. He's been sitting for nearly fifteen minutes, but the chair suddenly seems much too small for his fidgeting body. "Well, Buck," he begins slowly, "I know you're confused right now, but I really think it's best--"

"No." He narrows his eyes. He's done with other people's plans, other people's ideas, other people's orders. He can shape his own path now.

New York is right, though: Steve really won't back down from a fight. He sets his jaw mulishly, blond hair slightly askew, and suddenly the image is overlaid with another: same expression, same face, only many years ago. As much as he treasures those fragments of his past, he never gets used to the swooping sensation in his stomach that always comes with them.

"Bucky, you need help," Steve says, using the authoritative voice of a captain now. "You can't just keep wandering around like this, sleeping in the streets and stealing food to survive."

And maybe the captain is right, in a way. He can't keep doing this forever. Sooner or later the police will catch on, once the immediate aftermath of the S.H.I.E.L.D. disaster has passed, and he won't kill again. Not anymore.

But hell, doesn't Steve realize? He has a new mission now, his last and most important one. And if Steve Rogers ever wants to see Bucky Barnes again, if he ever wants to see him -- whoever is was, is, will be -- stand tall and sure, maybe even smile the cocky grin preserved in those Smithsonian films? Then he has to let him find himself, in his own time and on his own terms.

He stands, ignoring the tension in Steve's shoulders.

"Thanks for the coffee, punk. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

He's already three blocks away before he really tastes the words, feels the way his voice has curled slow and gentle around the sounds. But he thinks, no, he knows, that they were just the right words to say.

\------------------------

In the coffee shop, Steve Rogers sits and runs a hand wondrously through his hair.

"How can I?" he murmurs, half-smiling, to no one in particular. "You keep taking all the stupid with you."


End file.
